


Recovery Night

by antennapedia



Category: British Actor RPF, Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Consensual Infidelity, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Spooning, cuddlecore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 08:14:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8242526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antennapedia/pseuds/antennapedia
Summary: Weekend nights are recovery nights. Dinner delivered, a bottle of wine shared, a movie on the television. The cuddling is optional.





	

Peter's flat had a bigger screen than Jenna's, so that was where they had their movie nights. Sometimes they had them when Elaine was in town, but she wasn't about all that often this year. She was a busy woman. Peter was a busy man too, but while the show was shooting he tended to want his weekends clear. Especially if they'd been on location, which might have them shooting at all hours. So they had movie nights, which Peter called his recovery nights, sometimes with Elaine around, more often not. A movie or two, a program they both wanted to catch up on, whatever. Dinner delivered and a bottle of wine shared between them, while they sprawled out on Peter's couch, maybe a second bottle if Elaine was there or if the night went long.

They often wound up stretched out on the couch together, Peter behind Jenna, her head on his arm. It was a deep couch, with lots of pillows scattered over it, and Peter kept a warm blanket or two at the ready. No Elaine this weekend, and they were both wiped after a week of Vikings. Jenna was all too willing to stretch out that way this night, all cuddled up with Peter behind her and a long costume drama miniseries on the television.

Not that Peter was paying attention to the costumes this time. He was fiddling with her hair, running his fingers through it, braiding little bits of it and undoing the braids. Right about the time the good-looking stranger was revealed to have a dark past, he started stroking the back of her neck, blowing at it, then outright kissing her neck. Kissing her shoulder, easing her shirt aside so he could reach more skin. It was distracting her from the program. More than distracting: it was turning her on. And Peter being Peter, he had to be doing that on purpose. He knew how to cuddle chastely, because they'd done that loads.

"Peter," Jenna said.

He left another open-mouthed kiss on her shoulder and said, "Mmm?"

"What is this?"

"I'm kissing you. Turn around so I can do it properly."

Jenna turned over in his arms and looked at him as best she could in the dim light. Blue eyes, a great halo of graying hair mussed up, a little bit of stubble on his chin. Those smile lines around his eyes were all crinkled up.

He kissed the end of her nose then touched his lips to hers. Again. "There," he said.

"Peter. Elaine--"

"Knows. I shan't go into detail."

His face was serious now, intent. He was being honest with her. His marriage was unassailable but complex, she knew that. She'd spent enough time with the both of them; they were both of them too intelligent and opinionated to have anything other than a marriage of equals or not at all. So if he said Elaine knew, she knew. And that meant it was entirely up to Jenna.

"Okay, then."

He smiled at her, one of those adorably boyish smiles that crinkled up his whole face. There was something so purely sweet and charming about this man. He was easily happy, easily sad, always on edge about his own worth as a human being, but so loving and supportive of everyone around him. And right now every bit of that intensity was focused on her, and it was almost overwhelming. He was kissing her again, this time with parted lips, and it was overwhelming.

Jenna closed her eyes and yielded to the kiss. To his arms, to his body pressed against hers, his knee between hers. Long minutes of nothing but kisses, slow kisses, while the show ran unheeded behind them.

"Jenna, honey," he said, and those were the only words he spoke, Peter, the man who babbled so intelligently about anything and everything.

Kissing on the couch in the dim light of the television. Easing open the buttons of his shirt so she could kiss his neck. His knee had worked its way up so she was straddling his thigh. This was about to turn heavy.

"Turn around," he said.

Jenna turned in his arms and he tucked himself up behind her. Did he just want to cuddle now? But his lips were on the back of her neck, and his hand was sliding up her thigh.

"May I?" Peter said. Voice so husky, so emotional.

"You may," Jenna said, and her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it. Peter was lifting her skirt and she was shifting to help him. His hand was on her thigh, hot against her bare skin. Those long fingers were stroking her thigh, curling around, between, and up. His fingers touched her knickers and Jenna made a little sound.

"Part your legs for me, honey," he said, and she did. He stroked her through her knickers, then pushed them aside and touched her bare skin. Jenna moaned for him, moaned against when he spread her open and slipped his middle finger into her. She was completely wet and open and turned on and it was making her whimper with desperation, that tease from his finger when it could be all of him.

She tapped his hand and he took it away. She pulled her skirt all the way up and her knickers all the way down, tossed them onto the floor. Behind her she heard his belt buckle jingle and then the sound of his clothing rustling. When she settled back against him, her backside was against his bare thighs, and she could feel his erection, brushing over her skin.

"May I?" he said, again. And again she gave him permission, and oh, there he was, brushing up against her, nudging at her, pushing into her. She shifted to make it easier for him and he was inside her. He couldn't go very deep, not in this position, but it was enough that she could feel how big he was. A little gasp from him, and he was moving slowly.

He reached around and touched between her thighs with two fingers, slipped between her labia and let his fingers rest there, unmoving. Jenna whimpered in frustration and reached down to touch herself.

"Let me do it for you, honey," he whispered. "Show me what you like."

Jenna guided his fingers to the right place and coaxed him into moving. Peter was always a clever man, always quick to learn, and he caught on immediately. Jenna let her head fall back against him and concentrated on moving with him, on that sweet feeling of him moving inside her. It was a long, slow build-up, almost frustrating except it so sweet and lovely, with this man wrapped around her, cuddling her, making little sounds of pleasure in her ear.

She started feeling it now, feeling it build in her, and Peter could tell because he started whispering to her, urging her toward it, telling her how much he wanted her to come for him, how good he wanted her to feel. That voice, that soft husky voice, that voice could have made her come all by itself, so she let herself fall into it, held safe in Peter's arms.

She laced her fingers with his and pressed his hand against her belly. She was in the afterglow but he hadn't finished. He was moving faster now, pushing harder, and his kisses on her neck were more desperate. He shifted down, pushed up into her more deeply, and then he was there, she heard it in his voice and in the way he went still. He said her name, said it again, and then she could feel his release inside her. God, she loved that feeling, a man she cared for, coming inside her, holding her as close as he could.

His breathing calmed and he kissed her neck again, nuzzled it. "Mmmm," he said. "Jenna."

"Peter," she said.

"That was lovely. Thank you."

What was she supposed to say to that? No partner had ever thanked her before. He was softening inside her and nuzzling the back of her neck and she should probably thank him too, because that had been a wonderful orgasm and she felt wonderful. And then the moment passed. He slipped out of her and Jenna disentangled herself. She sat up and reached for her knickers on the floor. "Gonna go, you know," she said.

All she got in reply was another of those contented hums. When she got back to the living room, all washed and straightened, he was lying back on the sofa looking completely self-satisfied. He had restored his trousers but his shirt was still all unbuttoned. Gray hair on his chest, that soft belly that was so comfortable to lie against, all so inviting.

She sat on the edge of the sofa and rubbed his chest as if he were a cat. He gave her a lazy, sloppy, satisfied smile.

"I'd love for you to spend the night," he said.

Jenna smiled back and tapped his nose. "Is there any of that wine left?"

"Mmm, probably."

Not that the lazybones was going to get up and look. Jenna had to get up again and find the bottle. She filled one glass and took it back to the couch for them to share. Peter held it for her while she returned to the comfort of his arms, his kiss on the back of her neck again.

Well. This was certainly not what she'd predicted for recovery night. She'd take it, though.


End file.
